Hamilton, Headbands, and Hot-Lanta: Part 1 of the Road Trip

As several of you know, yesterday I began my solo road trip. It will be a total of 39 days on the road, just me, myself, and the Hamilton soundtrack, because let's be real, I am not throwing away my shot here. Leg one of the trip took me from good old Enterprise, AL, to Atlanta, GA to visit my freshman year roommate. Other than having to buy a new toothbrush, it's been going pretty well. I have packed a massive amount of fall clothes in the vain hope that  cooler weather is coming, but we'll see.

As I rode into Atlanta on in my loyal road-tripping car, Sophie, I said a silent thank-you to God that I did not live in a city where rush hour is a thing. I don't know how on earth people can get used to that.  I approached Meagan's apartment in Midtown and per the usual realized that I had timed things very poorly. My original plan of getting there early enough to go to the botanical gardens did not work out,  and I had an urgent need for the restroom. Meagan was not due home for another 25-30 minutes, so I went to google and discovered there was a mall nearby. News flash: Colony Square Mall is not a real mall. Turns out I spent $4 to walk around a closed food court and use the restroom. Lies and deceit, I tell you. By then I had heard from Meagan and she was on her way home so met her at her apartment.  After a quick catch-up hug and greeting, food became a priority for the evening. I had my first Uber experience from her house, and we chose to do the Uber share, which was all well and good, until I tried to strike up a friendly conversation upon entering the car with the young man across the backseat from me. "Hey, how are you?" I asked. He promptly stared out the window and awkwardly ignored us the whole ride. It wasn't until after he exited the car that our driver confirmed to Meagan and me that the young man was not rude, but deaf. I'm glad that I did not try to continue conversation.

We went to one of Meagan's favorite restaurants that screams hipster, and I was thrilled about it. If you go to the Midtown area, look up "Ladybird" and order the fried pimento cheese appetizer. The food and drink there are on-point, and I couldn't breathe after eating because I was so full. The best cure for this was to walk the BeltLine path, which was absolutely brilliant and beautiful. People have turned the area into live art areas, including pianos along the trail. As you walk along, you can view the city skyline twinkling in the background, passing the Ponce City Market and probably hundreds of local breweries. I think that's the moment I started to fall in love with the city. Atlanta has always been a huge, overwhelming, and intimidating place in my mind, but as I walked along with a longtime friend and saw the calmer side of Hotlanta, I began to wonder what other things I have misconstrued in my life; things that I've been scared of when they're really beautiful, or seen as harmless when they've really torn me apart.

Some of you know the deeper reason behind the road trip. For anyone still curious about it, please read the previous post. The simple point is that I am working at not only putting pieces back together, but finding pieces of myself that I didn't even know existed. I'm pretty much showing up in these cities where my friends live and saying, "Let's adventure!" I have an adventurous spirit, and I have to utilize that to discover what I truly love. That goes from food to activities to what personality traits I want to surround myself with. I will eventually figure out what I want to do with my life, but not until I am solid enough in myself.  Okay, jump out of the deeper stuff here and go back into the Atlanta adventures.

Our walk along the BeltLine brought us to a lovely treat of Jeni's ice cream, another reminder of my life in Tennessee that I am trying to disassociate from my most recent experience, because no one wants to let a break-up ruin ice cream. We also decided to go out for a night on the town. One Ubershare with a rather intoxicated, but friendly gentleman, later, we were ready to begin. First stop was a very chill place called The Book House Pub, which is a pub-like atmosphere with shelves of books all around. Be still my nerding heart <3 Everyone with a taste for beer and books simply must experience the atmosphere of this place.

Afterwards we found ourselves at a night club that we thought would be playing techno jams that evening; it turns out it was hip-hop night. We made friends with a  girl from Philly and her cousins, and we gloriously re-invented my famous move: The Shopping Cart. It now has Philly swag, and is therefore 10x better. By the time 1AM hit, we were dead to the world and ready to call our "wild" night.

This morning started with my Hamilton sing-alongs as we got ready for the day. Meagan took me to the Dancing Goat coffee house where I saw the happiest group of dogs waiting for their owners, and got some delicious coffee and a mini-donut. She took me to Ponce City Market, where we roamed dangerously into Anthropologie. I purchased two wrap-around headbands for a total of $26. Was it a waste? I didn't think so, until I lost one in the botanical gardens today #RIPheadband. Speaking of beautiful things, the Atlanta Botanical gardens are like nothing I've ever seen before. The combination of art, architecture, and horticulture that exists in the gardens is unmatched by any others that I've been to. Being immersed in the natural beauty of flora and fauna is fantastic. Despite the heat, it's one of the coolest things I've done in Atlanta (pun 100% intended).

I headed to Winston-Salem this afternoon, and again spent most of the time on the road learning as much of the Hamilton soundtrack as possible. Even through Hamilton, I am learning things about myself. For example, I have been a Burr in a lot of the scenes of my life; hiding my beliefs except to my close friends, molding to the situation, and not standing up for what I really believe in. Unlike Burr, however, I am not doing that for my own advancement. I'm literally doing it because I don't know what is true to me. I know how to adapt, and I have about 5 fundamental truths to myself, but beyond that, I get to rediscover myself. It's very hard work, don't get me wrong, and it's sometimes incredibly painful, but i'm discovering it's worth it.

The Origin Story: or, Why I've Decided to Blog Again.

My story doesn't start very differently than most other 25-year olds living at home with their parents. Life hit me, hard, and suddenly I couldn't deal with it anymore. My spiral began a long time ago and climaxed after my most recent break-up. It hurt like hell, and I don't wish the pain of heartbreak on anyone. My heart still aches more often than I care to admit, but every day gets a bit easier. It's true, time really can help heal.

As you're reading this, you are more than likely imagining that moving forward, this blog is going to be an Eat, Pray, Love 2.0. Who knows, it may very well be, or it may just be the ramblings of a girl trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together without a picture. I will tell you what this blog will not be: I am not here to air my dirty laundry. I am not here to tell you all of the deep-seeded roots of my problems. I am not here to blame anyone for the situations I've found myself in. Sure, at first I wanted to, and it still would be the easy and cowardly thing to do, but the reality is that this is so much bigger than that. I am fortunate enough that I had a family to come home to when life fell apart, but the most important thing is picking myself back up again, and learning how to follow the guide string out from the depths of my soul's hiding place and emerge back into the world, healed. But how do you heal what seems immeasurably broken? 

• Do you just pray?
• Do you eat right? 
• Do you surround yourself with loved ones? 
• Do you stay alone so you don't have to hold it together? 
• Do you get involved with new things? 
• Do you allow yourself to wallow?
• Do you get in touch with old hobbies? 
• Do you do it all?

These are all suggestions I found when I was googling how to deal with heartbreak. They're all pretty good, don't get me wrong, but the underlying idea behind all of these is to do something healthy that you know brings you comfort. In order to do that, you must know yourself. Here, my friends, is where I really want to begin my story with you. 

Codependent. The word stung my ears as my therapist said it from across the room, getting an emotional reaction from me for the first time in 2 weeks (beyond the incessant sobbing, that is.) I felt a match strike against my ribs as a bitter flame crept up inside. How dare she? I thought to myself. She hardly knows me. She thinks I'm weak because I'm heartbroken ... yeah, well she would be, too, if she had just been through what I had! Our time was up for the day, but the word bothered me, stuck to me like duct tape over my mouth for the rest of the day. I dwelled on this new label, trying to find a way to rip it off, understand it, be rid of it, because it simply couldn't be true. It was literally calling me dependent on someone else. I didn't need anybody - I had had plenty of times in my life where I was perfectly happy without a boy to gush over. I took to the internet so that I would have a well-prepared argument for when I returned to my therapist's office on why I was absolutely not codependent, thank you very much. 

These were the signs. I have marked in blue everything that applies to me:

• An exaggerated sense of responsibility for the actions of others 

• A tendency to confuse love and pity, with the tendency to “love” people they can pity and rescue

• A tendency to do more than their share, all of the time

• A tendency to become hurt when people don’t recognize their efforts

• An unhealthy dependence on relationships. The co-dependent will do anything to hold on to a relationship; to avoid the feeling of abandonment

• An extreme need for approval and recognition

• A sense of guilt when asserting themselves

• A compelling need to control others

• Lack of trust in self and/or others

• Fear of being abandoned or alone

• Difficulty identifying feelings

• Rigidity/difficulty adjusting to change

• Problems with intimacy/boundaries

• Chronic anger

• Lying/dishonesty

• Poor communications

• Difficulty making decisions

I was floored as I read more about this condition, realizing it was putting into words something that I had been feeling my entire life. 

"The co-dependent person typically sacrifices his or her needs to take care of a person... When co-dependents place other people’s health, welfare and safety before their own, they can lose contact with their own needs, desires, and sense of self... Co-dependents have low self-esteem and look for anything outside of themselves to make them feel better. They find it hard to “be themselves.” Some try to feel better through alcohol, drugs or nicotine - and become addicted. Others may develop compulsive behaviors like workaholism, gambling, or indiscriminate sexual activity.

They have good intentions. They try to take care of a person who is experiencing difficulty, but the caretaking becomes compulsive and defeating. Co-dependents often take on a martyr’s role and become “benefactors” to an individual in need. A wife may cover for her alcoholic husband; a mother may make excuses for a truant child; or a father may “pull some strings” to keep his child from suffering the consequences of delinquent behavior.

The problem is that these repeated rescue attempts allow the needy individual to continue on a destructive course and to become even more dependent on the unhealthy caretaking of the “benefactor.” As this reliance increases, the co-dependent develops a sense of reward and satisfaction from “being needed.” When the caretaking becomes compulsive, the co-dependent feels choiceless and helpless in the relationship, but is unable to break away from the cycle of behavior that causes it. Co-dependents view themselves as victims and are attracted to that same weakness in the love and friendship relationships."

That empty worthlessness that had been misdiagnosed as anxiety or depression was actually this terrible word that I hated hearing: codependency. Things started to click into place. This was why teaching, where so many things were out of my control and there was always more to be done, tore me to shreds. I felt responsible for all the students I ever encountered, and felt solely responsible for them. This was why stage management, which I was good at and loved doing, would leave me in tears if I messed up one single call or a show didn't go perfectly. It would trigger that worthlessness that I fought inside of me. I never truly learned to love myself or know who I was. I allowed myself to be controlled by who was around me, molding to fit their needs so they wouldn't throw me away, so that they would decide I was worth keeping. I adapted to the work environment, believing if I did more than anyone else or worked harder or pushed myself beyond what was expected, I would finally feel worth something. I was constantly seeking outside factors to need me, to validate me, to prove that my life was worth something, because I did not feel it for myself. 

It was terrifying to realize that this is what was wrong. I knew that there were drugs to help cope with depression, or anxiety, but how on earth do you deal with an utter loss of self-identity and worth? How do you undo 25 years of self-inflicted mental negativity and degradation? 

I walked back into her office a week later, with 11 pages typed out in my hand about all of the lightbulbs that had clicked on in my little head, trying to tie the loose ends together with a needle. I remember looking at her and asking, "How do I fix this? I think you're 100% right, but how do I repair the damage?" The answer seemed so simple when she said it. She said, "You have to learn to love yourself. Not just tell yourself you do, but you have to really do it." Where is the how-to manual for that one, huh? I thought to myself. So she started me small, making lists of things I liked about myself (much harder than it appears, by the way). She had me journal and gave me exercises, and I'm slowly beginning to feel normal again.  If someone had told me 5 years ago that I would have had to wake up every morning and tell myself affirmations like, "You are worthy of love, you deserve to be happy, you have things to offer the world..." so on and so forth, I would have laughed at them. I would have told them that I didn't need to do that because I was "confident." 

After 2 months of a practically catatonic state, I am rejoining the world. I am working for free at a local coffee shop and doing some transcription work for cash on the side, and I am loving both of those. Now that I feel like a human being again, it's time to start the next stages: who am I and what do I want for my life? I have spent so long adapting to other's needs (because I didn't know what else to do, not because they asked me to) that I'm truly at a loss for what I even enjoy doing for free time. Someone asked me the other day what one of my favorite foods is, and a list of my friend's, family's and ex's favorite foods ran through my head like a rolodex. I, however, could not think of one that I liked for my own sake, not because someone else liked it or it reminded me of someone. 

I know that as young adults, most of us have no idea what the answer to who we are or what we want to be, but most of us at least have a sense of what we like and dislike. That is my ground zero. I need to be able to identify those simple things about myself without anyone's judgement or influence over me, causing me to adapt to how they would like to see me. One thing that I have re-discovered about my life is that I love to travel. I have a wandering spirit for adventures and the possibility of "new" thrills me. Jetting off to a brand new country, however, will not be in my best interest right now. Instead, I will be taking a month-long solo road trip to visit friends and get a feel for some of the cities that I may want to try to move to and start life over again. It will be a big test of my independence and a huge trial on my abilities to focus on my needs. I will not have to consider a travel partner or family member's wants or desires. I can eat and sleep when I need to and enjoy exploring new cities on my own while my hosts are either at work or in school. It is one of the first things I've been truly excited for in quite some time, and that's saying something. The idea of doing this alone is slightly terrifying, but I know it's something that I need.

Throughout this trip, I will be updating this blog, letting people know my progress, my adventures, and the altogether ridiculous things that I'm sure will happen to me (because anyone reading this who know me is well aware that normalcy is something that just doesn't occur when I adventure). Some of you may question my motives on publishing this journey, and that's fine. You're entitled to. 

I am doing this because writing is a hugely therapeutic  technique that I have gotten in touch with again in my months of recovery. I am choosing to put it out there because it holds me accountable. I am hoping that people read it so that they can perhaps gain some insight to themselves, and see that there are some crazy things yet to come when you have nowhere to go to but up.